My mother is dismayed when Pat Buchannan wins the New Hampshire primary. “What is wrong with the Republican party?’

I have no idea what her thoughts were in 1988 when Pat Robertson won the Washington Caucuses.

Flash forward a few weeks. Bob Dole either firmly reasserts himself from the Steve Forbes — Pat Buchannan (Lamar Alexandar is a distant memory), and my mother is satisfied.

Flash forward to November. Jack Kemp has waved his influence on the campaign, or maybe Bob Dole is just getting a little desparate. Bob Dole has offered a 15% tax cut.

Clinton is out of the question. (I know I wouldn’t vote for him.)

I say (probably best described during my teen years as a political nihilist), “You could vote for Perot.” (I do know what she thinks about Perot.)

“Egomaniac.”

“You could vote for Nader. He once crashed a Pinto!” (My high school Auto teacher did a rant on Nader, though I don’t know what pushed him to rant about Nader.)

“I may just well do so.”

If I had to guess I say she voted for Dole. But it doesn’t really matter anyway, because she voted after the national media announced that Clinton had won the thing…

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